


Neckties and the Art of Getting Kicked Out of Galleries

by Theta_Waves



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-30 11:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theta_Waves/pseuds/Theta_Waves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat gets a chance to take Jade out for a day. While Jade thinks it's the perfect chance for her to get through Karkat's mask of outrage, to the sensitive side underneath; he just hopes to get through it without having an anxiety attack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: As a disclaimer, I do not own Homestuck in any way. It is completely a work of Andrew Hussie, and this is a made-up work of fan fiction. Also, I'd be glad to know if you have any suggestions for the story, or if you even have a bit of critique you'd like to share. Feel free to post a review, or send me a Private Message if that's easier for you. Additionally, I am, in fact, the author of the same name who has been writing the same story on fanfiction.net. This account is of the same name, and will be soon hosting the same stories

Chapter 1

Whoever invented the necktie is doubtlessly a man of incredible evils, and deserves no less than to be paying for this grave mistake by way of eternal suffering in the deepest vaults of Hell.

These were the kinds of thoughts that boiled about in the think-pan of Karkat Vantas at his place of work

_Perhaps,_  he further brooded,  _I should dedicate my life to crime and evil if only to meet the gent' in Hell just to have the opportunity to use his human blood-pusher in a softball game with Ted Bundy._

His eyes snapped wide and he dropped the pen he'd been twirling absent-mindedly. Ted bundy had no place in his daydreams, and he should never pursue an avenue of thought involving anyone, really, of the Bundy persuasion.

After clearing the self-induced shock from his face, he lifted his chin from the elbow, his own, that he had been resting on, picked up the pen he had dropped onto his laptop, squinted at it in a decidedly ornery fashion and placed it between his teeth. Contrary to most other aspects of his living conditions, Karkat kept his laptop in very good shape. That much could be deduced by the state of his desk. Directly in front of him was a well-kept slab of hardware and wiring. On either side of it, however, there peacefully coexisted sheafs of paper, wrappers from various foods, pencils broken in fits of rage, and work documents anointed with various doodles conceived during countless bouts of boredom.

It didn't matter much, he never really got reprimanded for it. He was a paper-pusher, and the only reason he had a job at this particular magazine publishing firm was because his dear friend Kanaya knew the chief editor, and that, combined with otherwise inexplicable pull with the whole system, got you a job that demanded little, and certainly paid the rent. You weren't expected to do much work. You gathered that they perhaps feared you due to the air of hostility that orbits you. Converations stopped when you passed by, your desk found itself avoided, and your higher-ups sought to do little but pacify you with busy-work, and interact with you as little as possible. To be honest, that suited you fine. It meant you had to put in an average of two productive work hours in a day, and you were bothered vary little by your peers in the office. Not that it mattered to you; the people working here were vastly boring, self-centered, and dense. But Hell if it didn't get boring.

Besides boredom, though, today was dragging along slower than it normally would, because you secretly can't wait for tonight. Tonight, like many a night before, you would be hanging out at Rose's apartment with your mutual friends. After the game, you all stayed close. After such an intense and emotional experience, you all wordlessly decided that not even in a world as crazy would drive you apart. In fact, all of your detachment from society due to years away served only to bring you all closer. You guys did everything together though, and little was held secret, and oddly enough, Lalonde's apartment became a common meeting place for your dysfunctional group. Technically it was Rose and John's apartment, but that goober will never strike you as someone who can fill out any of the paperwork required to live in an apartment.

You guys never cease to be together, so why do you never cease to be excited? /you pretend in your mind that it isn't because of Harley. The facial expressions of a petulant teenaged asshole and shy lover-boy compete for dominance and call it a draw at giving you a screwy scowl and a blush.

It's not your fault that those blazing emerald eyes make the world fall away around you. In fact, the first glance burned them into your mind; hanging vaguely in front of memories, and often there in the dark of night when you call for them. Not your fault that when she puts on that adorable as all Hell half-lidded grin you become putty in her hands. Not at all. You're glad to be going because your friends mean the world to you, and seeing them is like Rapture and wriggling day and human Christmas rolled up into a single disgusting human enchilada sleeping bag like a happy goddamn family.

Just fifteen more minutes until you stuff your possessions into your messenger bag, stop off at the apartment you share with Sollux and head off to Rose's

You might be pressed for time, so your glad you won't have to change; a white button-up with rolled up sleeves and gray slacks works fine, and, you hope, will be enough to impress Jade. You wish Sollux were going, but he still happened to be nocturnal and worked night shifts. Having Sollux there for back-up and, more likely, emotional support would be welcome, but you guess you'll just have to fly solo this time.

_Should I bring flowers?_

_No, idiot,_  you chide yourself with a slap on the forehead for good measure, _who goes to a group social gathering with flowers with an as-of-yet platonic friend? Are you joking?_

You decide it's best to just show up. Act casual. Be all sorts of smooth.

You follow this preparatory train fo thought, and before you know it, the assholes around you are packing up.

Quittin' time already?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: I felt like I should say that the narrative point of view often shifts between the third person, and adopting Karkat’s point of view in order to bolster effect; there are things that often become easier to describe from the characters perspective. Once again, if you have any critique, helpful suggestions, or any burning questions, feel free to leave a review or send me a message.

Chapter 2

By Theta Waves

Time sure flies when you’re terrified.

Sweeps ago, when Karkat sat at home wondering what his life would be like when he was older, standing in front of a lovely door at an alien’s apartment, holding a tray of chicken-salad sandwiches, about to sweat through your shirt with nervousness and scared enough to vomit was the furthest scenario from your mind.  The sweat problem, though, gave him a new sympathy for Equius.

He had picked up the tray of flavorless-looking sandwiches on the way over.  He was walking along the street at a constant low-level panic about the whole Jade-affair when he was gripped by the sudden fear of looking like a fool if he brought nothing to this shin-dig.  He ducked into a corner store, and spent eight fruitless minutes looking for a nice tray of vegetables, fruits, and that nice speckled dip.  When he caught the tray of chicken salad finger sandwiches with his eye, he paused, stared at it in a thoughtless haze for a long moment, before audibly shrugging out, “Who doesn’t like chicken salad?”

And now, he was here, four floors up in a nice apartment building, and contemplating throwing himself, along with his delicious party gift, out the nearest window.

Instead, he stared hopelessly into the metallic lettering on the door of apartment 413, looking for answers in the chrome work.

They held none.

Damn you, human chrome work.

He carefully raised a shaking left hand, and tap tap taps on the door.

Wait, what? Don’t tap it, knock or something, idiot.

He tried to steel himself, adopted his trademark rude outrage, and decided to just open the door in a Karkat-like fashion, only to be greeted by the sight of a nice looking elderly couple reading a newspaper together.

He locked eyes with them, and spoke not a word, as words could not describe his mortification, in what was the single most self-defenestration worthy moment in his life

“Wrong uh, --er, wrong door…nice place.”

He gave them a little bow, nearly tripped on his feet, and backed out of the room slowly as he softly shut the door.  Now that the door was closed, he felt he was perfectly justified in shouting---

“HELL AND HUMAN HORSESHIT!!!”

To his left, as if on cue, an identical door opened to reveal the pale Rose human leaning on the doorframe, with a very slight curl about the ends of her lips.

“Wrong door, Karkat?  We keep telling you that we’re in apartment four- _fourteen_.”

“You guys can go to Hell!  Four-thirteen is a super significant number, it’s only right that you live there!  You’re only living one apartment over just to mess with me, aren’t you?”

“We felt it best not to tempt fate.  Won’t you come in?”

“Why yes, how kind of you to _finally_ offer after leaving me stranded out here.

He glared at her as he marched past her over the threshold and into the abyss.  Now that he was here, the fear of what lay behind the door was replaced by reality, and the speculation of everything that could go wrong.

Rose passed him on the left, swaying in the way she always does past the glass coffee table toward the open doorframe that led to the kitchen.  John sat at the perfectly white fabric couch next to Dave as Rose passed, looking up at her with that doofy grin he always had around her.  Dave pretended not to notice John’s ogling as he half-lied on half the sofa.

The room itself was bright, warm and inviting; Rose’s taste in décor always amazed you juxtaposed to her dark interests and tendencies.  A rectangle, twenty feet across and nearly as wide.  The couch is in the center atop gray-blue carpeting and facing a wall the housed the television.  All about said television, lay John’s shrine to cinema.  You call it that in your mind, it’s really just John’s admittedly impressive collection of nearly every movie imaginable.  And yes, he will tell you, they are all completely necessary.  Whether or not they were any good is a different story.  Behind the couch a tall window interrupts periwinkle walls that remind you of the sea.  The whole room does, strangely enough.  The doorframes are all painted white (Rose’s idea) and you think it works quite nicely.  On the right side of the couch, across the floor, are two empty doorframes: On the left, the kitchen, and on the right, the hallway.  Gamzee sits on the back of the couch, looking dazed and staring vacantly toward the window.  Terezi stands in front of him, talking with Kanaya whose indecipherable expression is probably due to Terezi’s …abrasiveness. 

_Well, good,_ you think as you finally breathe out, _no Jade as of yet.  Maybe she’s sick_.

“Hey, Karkles!”  Terezi grins at you in her Cheshire cat fashion that never ceases to weird you out.  “I was starting to think you’d _never_ show up1”

“Oh yeah! Hey, buddy, what’s up?”  John joins in, looking at you sidelong from the couch, genuinely pleased, “You didn’t walk into the wrong apartment again did you?”

“Take that human mouth-carpet of yours, knot it, and swallow it whole, Ebgert.” 

“We all love you too, Karkat.”

“You should tell me where these belong, or else I might not be able to help myself from stuffing your stupid protein chute full with them.”  You gesture to the sandwiches to be clear.  John raises an eyebrow.  Probably because why the hell did you bring chicken salad sandwiches, anyway?

“Um… in the fridge, in the kitchen.”

“Thanks for the directions, Magellan”

The bits of knowledge you’ve picked up from human culture further let you understand how shortsighted and tiny-minded their species is, but lets you insult them in a manner they’ll understand better.  You hope it makes insult hit that much closer to home.

You take off on your new heading toward the kitchen, Rose passing you on your way, and sitting herself down in her proper, mannerly, and utterly _precocious_ way on the couch.  Gog, does she have to put on her dumb human airs all the time?  The part of you that’s always second-guessing asks you how you can tell she’s being precocious, and you’re just a cultureless slob.  That’s the part you hate, though.

You walk into the small kitchen and look left toward the refrigerator that you’re going to somehow fit a covered tray into, when you notice that it’s already being perused by a large, unruly mass of tresses and tresses of jet black hair leaving the person behind them, unidenti—Oh no it’s Jade.

She cocks her head as if she’s heard something, and turns toward you.  This does nothing to disprove your theory that human females have a sensory adaptation that allows them to smell fear.  All the females you’ve asked say no, and then rarely talk to you again, but you know they just keep it secret; yes you’re sure of it.  You consider setting the tray on the counter and booking it, but before you know it, it’s too late, and she’s turned right around to meet you.  All goofy smiles, and wide, wire-rimmed glasses.

“Karkat?  Karkat!”  Her light dusting of freckles are pushed up by here genuine grin, just when you though a smile couldn’t get any wider.  “Oh, Karkat, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!”  She goes in for a hug, and, in a clever move, you excuse yourself from it due to the tray in the way of the two of you.  You could swear disappointment crosses her face.

“Yes, Harley.  It is I, Karkat.  Now get your pallid hide away from the fridge.  My precious cargo,” you hold up the tray, “needs to be in that sustenance trunk five minutes ago.”

This earns a wrinkling of the nose from her.

“ _Of course_ , brave Sir Knight!”  She jumps to the side, doffs an imaginary hat, and bows low.

“Keep that up, Harley, my ego could use some stoking.”  This may or may not be a lie.  “Now if you don’t mind, there’s a blonde headed garbage-pan out there who, I’m very sure, wants to talk with you; which would very conveniently allow me to proceed with the food.

That last bit elicited a frown, and another cock of the head, from her.  You try not to meet her gaze.

“I’ve already been talking to them, and you’ve only just arrived.  I want to talk with you now.”

You shrug, unsure of what the _right_ response is if there is one.  “Yeah, well…”

She doesn’t seem to want to move, so you approach with the tray, only to meet disaster when you’re ankle gives just for a moment, and you pitch forward.  With the covered tray occupying your hands, you simply catch one glimpse at Jade, who hasn’t had time yet to appropriate an expression.  Your arms extend and one knee comes up, the other leg flails out from under you.  You pre-emptively shut your eyes, brace for impact, direct as many curses at yourself that you can in such a short timeframe, and feel your chin connect with the tile floor before anything else. 

“ _All the sons of all the BITCHES!”_

Jade retains her stunned silence, but you hear Gamzee pipe up from the other room.

“All good in there, my best brotherly bro?”

“Just Goddamn peachy!  Those worthless wind tunnels you call ears are working it seems!”

You peek open one eye again and—oh hell…

Chicken salad.  _Everywhere_

Goddamn, do you hate chicken salad.

The runway of delicatessen treats runs from the no-longer-airworthy tray at your fingertips to Jade’s shoes.

“Karkat?”

You can’t help but look up, in a fashion not as adorabloodthirsty as you’d like.  “Y-Yes?”

She snickers, because of course she does; “You are such a dork.”

Unknowing of what to do or how to respond, you take a knee, and stand.  You dust off your slacks only to stain them with chicken salad.  _For the love of…_

“Shut that gaping red speak tube.  You had time enough to help me.”  Why aren’t you shouting?  This is the most shout-worthy event of the past few days…

“It was a split second, you absolute dweeb!”  She looks like she’s about to buckle over in laughter.

You just stare at her mouth-agape and dumbfounded at her while she finishes her fit of giggles.  Red cheeked and eyes pinned shut by merriment, glasses askew.  You feel your shoulders drop; it’s a moment of seeing her like this, in her element, which assaults you with the dreaded feels.

She meets your gaze again, finally, with a look you can’t quite identify, and you start to feel a bit sick.  You look for an out, and drop to your knees, hunch over, and wordlessly begin picking up lumps of cold gray cuisine from the floor.

“Karkat?”

You pretend not to hear.  Instead you just feel a second presence on the floor.  Risking a look, you can see Jade’s joined you in your quest for the floored foodstuffs.

“I’m sorry I laughed at you Karkat.”

You aren’t looking at her anymore, but you can feel her gaze on the crown of your head.  You want to say something, preferably very offensive, but nothing comes to mind. 

_Karkat, what is with you lately?_

Instead, you stand, fists full of gray, lumpy nutrition, walk in a dignified manner toward the sink, and dump the food.

“I wouldn’t be.”  As soon as you finish saying it, you turn your whole body to her, and lean back against the sink with your hands resting on the counter behind you.

She looks shocked with you and now that you mention it, rather pitying.  You don’t know how this got so melodramatic.  You step across the room to her, gently grab her wrist, and pull it toward you from her side.  It’s loosely holding a chunk of the cursed chicken salad.  You look into her eyes before turning her hand over into yours, claiming the squishy food bounty.  And then, you can notice the tender, and foreign, look in her eyes, like she’s beginning to expect you to kiss her.  So you ever so gently bring your left hand to her cheek, and smear her face in chicken salad with your right.

_Take that world.  Karkat Vantas doesn’t take your shit lying down_

The look she has following is a mix of livid, and flabbergasted.  The delicious deli prize occupying her left cheek and nose erases any hope of it being threatening.

In fact it makes it hilarious.

“Jade, Jade- I…”  You struggle to form words in the midst of your laughter.  It’s rare enough, so it feel alien.  “I’m sorry, but—I—I knew that… actually I’m not sorry at all!  But I knew that-that your mind was going to arrive in the same course of action!”  You fail to feel any regret

“So you plastered my face in this goop first!?”

“Absolutely!”  By this point, the laughter is gone, but the memory hangs around.  “Besides, you’re always telling me to lighten up!”

“Not at my expense!  And whenever I tell you to lighten up, you tell me, in no kind words, of all the different ways you’d pay to see me die!”

“Sorry, you’ve got to pick one or the other.”

A smoldering glare is the best she can do as she starts to clean off her face.  You feel compassion come back around, and fetch the paper towel roll.

She thanks you for it with a kick in the knee.  Talk about ungrateful.

“C’mon Harley, you’ve got no right to be mad, quit it.”

“I’m mad Karkat.  No dice.”

“Wait, so when Karkat falls into chicken salad wonderland, it’s funny, but when Jade’s precious little face suffers a bit of good natured salad smacking, it’s a war crime?!”

“Yes, you jerk,” She stops you as the picks of the last bits and pieces, “and you are a jerk.”  You aren’t fooled; you see the smile on her as she bounces the roll of paper towels off your forehead.  You return it during the following moment of understanding between the two of you. 

“Are you two done clowning around in here?”  Kanaya pokes her head around the doorframe looking un-amused, “Because we’re all waiting for you.”

Jade answers before you.  Kanaya’s entrance bade you drop the slight smile.  “Yeah, there was just a little accident.  Come on, Karkat!”  She is once again as cheerful as ever as she practically skips out of the kitchen, leaving you standing there with Kanaya’s gaze bearing down on you.  It cracks into s smile, or a knowing grin.  You can never tell with Kanaya…

“It’s a winning smile, Karkat.  You should use it more often.”

“Oh, you want some chicken salad too?  There’s plenty enough for me to drown you in.  Or you can turn right the hell around and glow or whatever somewhere else!”

“Oh, Karkat…”  She still wears the smile when she leaves.  You can hear conversation in the other room continuing, and you decide that they can wait.

Truth be told, Kanaya’s comment had really struck a chord.  He had a nice smile?  He brushed his jaw as he heard it again in his head.  Smile more?  Smiling had always just seemed to lie in the realm beyond his identity.

_Shake it off, Vantas.  Just Kanaya goofing around_.

You find your composure, well, as much composure being relative with you, and emerge into the living room.  Not much changed, save for the fact that Jade was on the couch, and your re-entrance hadn’t caused a stir.

“Looks like we’re all packed into the moron squad clown-car.”

“Best bro, don’t be that way.”  Gamzee’s smile just seemed to enrage you more.  “Besides, we’re all happy and at our best together.”

You just dismiss him with a wave of your hand and sit down on the carpet.  Everyone is sitting on or around the couch now and there’s little talk for a moment. 

Dave, oddly enough, breaks the silence.

“Rose, you said something about going to that new museum?”

“Hmm?  Oh yes, well, it’s not a museum, David, it’s an art gallery, that I have tickets to attend.  However, John and I can no longer spare the time.  John will be performing on the Piano for the big musical opening downtown.  The scheduled pianist canceled.”

You _thought_ that idiot John looked extra excited today.

“Ahaa, John’s big break!  Well, let’s all hope you don’t get nervous before the show and miss all the wrong notes, eh?  I can smell your fear…”  Terezi cackles as she leans over the back of the couch at John.  The barb is obvious, but apparently effective; he seems very nervous indeed.

“Er- ahh…yeah, haha,” he pulls at his collar.  “The cake should be done!  Karkat, give me a hand?”  He leaps up from the couch, and gives you that desperate look that says _get me away from Terezi_.

You roll your eyes, but stand up.  You know _that_ feeling.

*                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *         

“So, the professional pianist thing is starting to pan out, eh?  Soon your magic act will be taking off too.”  You ask while frosting a cake you swore you’d never frost moments ago, wearing the frilly apron you swore you’d never wear.

“Also, why am I frosting your stupid cake?”

“Because you got stupid chicken salad all over my floor, that’s why.  Now shut up and even out the frosting more.”

You lock your death glare of defiance onto his gaze, goop frosting all over one edge of the breaded tall-circle, drop the spreader, flip him off with both hands, and take of the damned silly pink apron.  Why does john even like this thing?

With an exasperated sigh he takes over cake duty.  “And yeah, hopefully this gig might help me get started on doing piano professionally.”

“How come you want to do that so bad?  It’s not like you guys need the money.  Rose could pay for somewhere even better than this with all that money she got from that time we aren’t allowed to know about.”  This is a mysterious subject that gives you both a shudder.

“I know we don’t need money, but that’s not the point.  It’s what I love to do, you know?  And I want to be recognized; Sure, playing keyboard in the streets is fun, and it gets to people, and there’s soul too it.  I’ll be doing _that_ probably until I die, but at the same time…” he looks like he can’t find the words for the feeling, until his jaw sets, “I want to play in a goddamn suit in Carnegie Hall.  Once I’ve done that I’ll be finished with the business.”

You know what he means. And hell, in your generosity, you gave him a well-deserved supportive shoulder clap.

“It’ll work out, idiot.”

“Think so Karka—“

The heartfelt broment was interrupted by six loud door knocks in quick succession.

“Who could that be?  We’re all here, right?”  You ask puzzled at John.

John cringes, pulls at his collar, and generally looks as if he knows he’s done something very bad.

“Well, you see, we invited someone else at the last minute…”

“Hello?”  This call comes from beyond the front door.  “Wwould someone let me in?  I’m _so_ tired from all this wwalkin.”

John seems to shrink in fear from the glower of fury and death you give to him.

“You’ve baked your _last_ cake, _buddy-boy_ …”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

By Theta Waves

“No…” 

“Now, Karkat, let me explain…”  John puts his palms toward you in defense

“No, NO!”  You shout as you grab at the front of his shirt, “Tell me you didn’t!”

“Come on Karkat, he’s so lonely; we thought—“

“You thought WRONG you son of a bitch!  You invited Eridan Ampora!?”

You push him against the fridge as you nearly froth at the mouth.

“Why would you ever even consider inviting that whiny, elitist, jackass?!”

“John puts his hands on your shoulders trying to calm you down.  You think he might be about to pap you on the head, seems to be afraid you’d bite his hand off.  And he’d be right.

“Karkat, just let us-“

“NO.  NOPE!  Hear me, Egbert!  I am going to throttle you!  I hope that grand piano falls of your legs and cripples you!  I-I-I…”

You let go of him, still steaming.  You hear a door open, a few muffled greeting, and the shuffling of feet.

“John, I hate you so much.  So very, platonically, much.”

“No, Karkat, he’s our friend.  He just wants to be loved, man, and so help me god if you’re mean to him-“

“He’s a murderer, John!”

“So is Gamzee!  Look, Karkat, we’ve all done things we’re not admittedly proud of, but Eridans changed!  If you didn’t avoid him like the plague you’d know that.”

Oh there is no way…

“I’m staying in here.”  You pout and sit cross-legged on the floor.”

“Karkat, this is ridiculous”

“Nope.  Staying here.”

“This is so immature of you.”  John buries his face in his hands.

“Like I care.”

“Karkat, get out there or I will personally give Eridan your address.  Do you want Eridan to know where you live?  And how do you think Sollux would react?”

You retain a dignified silence for a moment as you mull it over.  You really, _really_ , don’t want Eridan knowing where you live.

“Fine then, Karkat.  Have fun with Eridan’s future visits.”

“Oh, fine!”  You concede defeat on this one.  “You’ve got me.  I’ll make nice with squid-scarf.”

You take one last withering hate-gaze at John, spin on your heels, and stomp into the living room.  Eridan has, sure enough, squeezed right between an uncomfortable looking Dave and Jade.  Eridan, however, is just grinning that dumb grin he gets when he thinks he’s making friends.  And then he spots you, that jerk.

“Hey, Kar!” 

Your mouth snaps open, and your brain runs it on a single impulse: “I hate you”

You didn’t even say it particularly maliciously.  However, hearing it took him aback, and he is visibly cringing and looking otherwise hurt.  Instead of tending to his feelings like a more merciful-feeling you would, you just take your spot on the floor back.  Why was there practically no furniture in this godforsaken place?

Now Eridan has a wobbly lip, and more than a few of your friends are looking at you as if you just shook the crib of a baby they had just finally gotten to sleep.

“Wwhy wwould you say that, Kar?”

The look you shoot him says ‘Dude, are you kidding?’ and your mouth says the same.

“Kar, I’vve done nothin’ but love you.”

You’re about to shout all of the reasons why you’re justified to hate him when Maryam drives an elbow into your ribs.  This makes you decide to ignore Eridan, even though he still looks like a kicked puppy.  Until Jade tries to break the tension by striking conversation back up.

“So!  Eridan, how is water polo going?  You said they might be letting you go professional?”

You had no idea that professional water polo existed, but you’ve seen far stranger things.

“Wwhy, yes, Jade, those daft fools havve realized the raww talent they’d be passin’ up if they let me go.”  Oh great she’s blown his ego up.  “In fact, they said they wwere blowwn awway by howw much of a natural I wwas out there.  Fittin’ though, that they should…”

You check out, as you’re fairly certain the others do.  You’re amazed anyone can take him going on and on.  But you’d probably be zoning out no matter what; you can only focus on Jade.  While everyone else looks borderline catatonic, Jade is actually managing to look courteously interested, and frankly, you’re impressed.  She’s sitting very slightly forward, picking at the hem of her flowing long-skirt, and you notice her glasses are perched precariously close to the tip of her nose as she looks down.  You’d never say so, but you found her glasses adorable.  For a brief moment she pouts at something in her mid, and you cock your head to the side because, by god, you’ve got to know what it is.  When she catches you staring for a moment she grins and sticks her tongue out at you.

_I was just spacing out,_ you mouth to her _, don’t flatter yourself_.

She points at Eridan with her eyes, causing you to roll yours and nod.

_Yeah, he can drone a bit,_ is her non-verbal reply.

In a moment when the lights played strangely around her, you saw a very clear picture of her in your mind.  You saw her, in one of your sweaters, at your table, reading a newspaper, all the while sipping your secret recipe coffee from your favorite mug.  Big reveal, your secret recipe is actually just piss poor coffee, because you can’t make a pot of coffee to save your life.

Reality snaps its head back to you when Terezi gets up to exclaim that she left the gas on at home, or something equally ridiculous, and that she should probably go turn it off.  As she nearly jogged from the apartment, ignoring several stares (even from its own tenants) that said ‘Please _don’t leave me’,_ a cackling laughter was reportedly heard.

“Goodbye Tez!  It wwas so good to see you!”  Eridan was the only one with verbal parting words.  You were definitely not starting to think that maybe he wasn’t as insufferable and hate-able as you remembered.  “Noww, wwhere wwas I?  Ahh yes, --“

“Uh, the cake!  I, uh, I didn’t bring out the cake!”  Nice save by John.  It is with this smooth move that he temporarily shut Eridan up, and absconded to the kitchen.  You can feel the air of ‘ _I want to get out of here; this is so uncomfortable_ ’ permeate the room.  Damn you, Terezi, why did you have to be the smart one and leave?  We’ve all received more than our daily dose of Eridan. 

Dave doesn’t even announce where he’s going when he gets up and wanders into the hallway, but when Kanays calls his name in the form of a question he simply calls out, “Bathroom!”

“So, Jade,”  Eridan starts, and you immediately wish he would stop, in your livid not-jealousy, “If you wanted to learn howw to play the sport, I’m sure I could find time to showw you.”  He’s trying to be smooth, but comes across as punch-able.  Jade looks like she’s trying to distance herself.

“Jegus H. Christ, what’s taking Dave so damn long?!”  your outburst sseems to break Eridan’s attention on Jade, and she volunteers to go check on him, but before she could get up and away from fish gills, Gamzee, oblivious to the awesome distraction you set up for her, assures her that he’s got it and slinks into the hall.

“Well guys, I hope you like the cake!  Frosted by our very own Karkat Vantas.  Ain’t she a beaut’?”  Egbert emerges from the kitchen with a pink cake that is all too familiar.  John seems to have fixed the frosting, though, and starts distributing slices.  Eridan accepts with some visible disdain; sometimes human food still makes him sneer.  He’s not fooling anyone, the pretentious dork loves the stuff.

When Egbert hands you your plateful you thank him, as well as distribute a choice expletive, and begin scarfing down.  Not ironically either; you absolutely shovel the stuff in. 

“Karkat, don’t eat so fast!  Are you even tasting it?”  You look up, cheeks full of cake, to respond to Jade, who’s been eating rather delicately.  You decide to furrow your brow and tip the plate in order to dump the remains into your open chute. 

“Damn it, Karkat…”  She says as she lifts her glasses to rub the bridge of her nose.

“Jade, I eat my food the way it pleases me.  And I change that for no one.”  You squint with determination at her and she returns the sentiment.

“Is that a challenge?”

“Hell no.”

“I think it was.”

“You’d be wrong to think that.”

“I accept your challenge.”

“What?”

She leans back smugly, “You all take witness that I, Jade Harley, have accepted the challenge issued by Karkat Vantas, to change his eating habits.”

“No, no, none of you confirm that, you hear me?”  As soon as the words leave your mouth the room resounds with confirmations of Jade’s behalf.

“You can all go to hell.”  You cross your arms in a huff.  “And where’s Gamzee?  Gamzee, get the hell back in here!”

He emerges, visibly unfazed, without Dave, and grabs a slice.  He doesn’t grab a fork, though.

“Sorry bro, just got a little turned around.  Spaced out admiring the view from John and Rose’s window.”

“It overlooks the alley.”

He has no real response, and Rose turns to him.

“Where’s Dave?  Weren’t you checking on him?”

“Oh, Dave-bro?  Didn’t see him.  The bathroom was empty.   Also, the fire escape outside your window is down.”

*                             *                             *                             *                             *                             *                             *            

“*Urp*  Jade?  Jade?”

“Yes, Karkat?”

“Jaaade…”

“What do you _want?_ ”

“Why’d you let me eat so much cake?”

Following Dave’s sudden and stylish departure, you had all decided that the now surplus cake shouldn’t go to waste, what with Dave and Terezi gone and all.  Plus, with abundance of cake already present…  The Great Eating began.

And now your insides hurt.

“My insides hurt, and I feel like you all should know.”

Jade giggles at you from her sprawled position on the floor.  “Shut up.”

You lay on the other side of the coffee table, but by turning your head, you could see Jade opposite you.

You scowl at her response, but it’s really just an excuse to look at her some more.  Gog.  The carpet had one of her cheeks pushed up.  Her smile made it just as cute.  Her hair fell in every way, except, miraculously, in any way that would cover her face.  You wish she would look at you like that all of the time, with the light playing off her face in the exact same way.  Despite the selfishness of it, you couldn’t help but wish that she would only look at you that way, and it made you feel rather bittersweet.  As hauntingly beautiful as it is, it _has_ to be bittersweet, you guess.

“No, _you_ shut up, Harley.”

She wrinkles up her nose and giggles helplessly; squealing, one might even call it.  You change your mind, _this_ is the moment you want to live in.

“Karkat, you’re the most adorable thing.”

“I am not.”

“Oh, but you are.”

“Blar.”

You had been beginning to think that maybe the moment would spin on into eternity, but, alas, the universe enjoys to frown upon Karkat Vantas’ wishes.  A literal shadow fell across Jade, and a figurative one your spirits, as you both look up to see fish-butt McHopeyoudrown standing over her.

And he’s looking unusually pompous and proud.

“*Ahem*  Madam Harley?”

“Yeah, Eridan?”

“I heard of a convversation that occurred earlier here today, pertaining to twwo extra tickets for a recently opened gallery.  As I am a connoisseur of art, evven of the inferior human vvariety, I think it may servve you wwell to accompany me.”

Jade’s physical expression doesn’t change much, but you can tell she’s apprehensive.

“Oh, Eridan, I-I’m sorry, but I’m already going to the gallery with a friend.”  You’ll have to ask her how she can sound so empathetic, but also not condescending.

“Oh, really,”  Eridan seems suspicious, and _Eridan, what the hell, you have no right to ask anything like that_.  You’re starting to get nervous enough to consider intervening.  Eridan doesn’t take rejection well.

“And wwho are you goin’ wwith?”

“Well,”  she drops her head sideways to smile at you, “Karkat’s coming with me.”

You adopt an expression of surprise, like that of the current Eridan.  “Karkat’s coming with you?”  Wow, referring to yourself in the third-person feels weird.

“Yes, idiot-troll, Karkat, being you, is coming with me,” she confirms.

Eridan looks at you and asks, “Is this true?”

You switch your gaze quickly from her, to him, and back before shrugging.

“Karkat’s going with her.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

_3 rd and Baldwin…_

_You’re picking her up on the corner of 3 rd and Baldwin._

On any other Saturday you’d probably, no, definitely be still in bed, doubtlessly in pajamas and watching “Sleepless in Trolleatle” on your husktop for the forty-eighth time.  But today was like no other day, no, today was special.  So special, you think you might puke your guts out on the sidewalk and all over your shoes from all this pure excitement.  Today is the fateful day you’re to be perusing the local snooty art gallery with Jade Harley.

            After yesterday’s frivolities at Rose’s, you and Jade parted ways outside the apartment door, with her writing an address down on your hand and telling you to be there at 3:00.  You stammered and told her she better not forget, before going in for a completely business-like handshake.  A handshake, Karkat?  Auspicious start, indeed.

            _At least I don’t have to wear a tie_ , you reflect; you’ve decided a white button up and slacks (again) was classy enough for a gallery, and suitable to impress Jade.  Who are you kidding…  You spent the previous night devouring two quarts of human ice cream while having an out loud panic attack to Sollux.  Less to Sollux, and really just out loud to yourself.  The day you take Sollux’s romantic advice is the day the ocean is replaced with flip-flops.  Your frenzy of Cherry Garcia rambling got so loud at one point that the neighbors stopped by to tell you to shut the hell up.  But they’re assholes anyway.  It ended with your roommate telling you what an absolute baby you were being, and that, as a “grown-ass troll” you can handle one afternoon just fine.  He more or less forcibly put you to sleep afterwards.

            At least the weathers fine.  Hell, the weathers just dandy: slight breeze parting the summer blaze.  As you approach the address scrawled on your hand (and it was a small comfort that you could still feel her cool fingers around your wrist), something seems wrong.  The place that you confirm to be the corner of 3rd and Baldwin as you study a street sign looks like no apartment building you’ve ever seen.  It’s a squat, brick building, two stories with great wide windows and a hell of a playground.  Two things that should, but don’t, usually find themselves at apartment complexes.

            You’re actually a bit early, and so approach the chain-link fence and study the unoccupied recreation zone.  Just a square plot of pavement thirty feet to a side that cuts into where the building should be, creating a corner sheltered by the safety of the chain partition which you presently are holding with your fingertips.  The sound that chain fences make when they’re so much as brushed, that rattle of alloy and mesh, has never failed to unsettle you.  Pretty standard stuff, really, swings, a sandbox, four square, hop-scotch…  You can’t help but snicker at the plastic boxes of sidewalk chalk that lie, often spilled over, on the blacktop.  Terezi would have jumped the fence in a heartbeat.  But what you really like is the mural.

            Covering the vast majority of the brick construct holding the playground in check, in paints and brushstrokes, is the depiction of swirling patterns, images and scenes.  It’s the same kind of subject matter as most murals found in city school: children of every creed and colour all getting along wonderfully and revitalizing your faith in the strength of the human spirit; Flora and Fauna of Earth mingling in with the children in a delightful community with green grass and rolling hills extending seamlessly into the azure sky.  The skill level jumps between that of toddlers and the confident fine-motor skills of an adult who you assume to be their teacher.  On one end, a colour pattern twirls and tumbles across the brick, and on another, strokes concentrate to form the shape of a very familiar barkbeast which causes your heart to jump into your throat for a moment.  A few moments, actually.

            _How in the hell…_

            And then you can see why.

            Through one of the windows that interrupt the wall, children in their infinite snot-nosedness sit at tiny table, dabbing their little sausage fingers into paints and glues and blocks.  Crouching by one to help one of them, with raven hair spilling over her shoulders,  forcing you to reel in shock, and more or less stunning you, is Jade Harley, the teacher.

            You’re not really sure why you’re so surprised, she must’ve mentioned it before.  That and the fact that it suits her perfectly.  You can’t imagine that any non-sociopathic child could ever do a thing against her will.  She was exactly the kind of spirit that loved what she did, and in a very human way, it spread to those she touched.  Doubtless, those little rats were pleasant, doted on their beautiful teacher, and hung off of her every word.  Karkat, get a hold of yourself.  Somehow, you still manage to look as if the window had begun talking to you, probably it would say, “Hey, my eyes are up here, you misogynist prick.  The nerve of some people…”

            You begin moving to the door to go inside, but think better of it.  For just a moment, you’d like to be here.  Right here, looking in at her from the outside.  Perfect in her perfect lime green dress and cardigan.  With her perfect smile that put the mural to shame.  Right now, you don’t have to be Karkat.  You don’t have to be angry, because you’re a stranger, nameless and faceless.  Maybe that’s why you rather like the city.  Nobody knows you who you don’t want to know you.  If you want to stand at the sidewalk and stare at a gorgeous creature, then by god, you could.

            You probably look dopey right now, but who cares.  For just a minute or two in your life, in your mind, things were alright.  Serene.

            Before she caught you looking, that is.

            Doubtless she felt the weight of your lovey-dovey gaze, and glanced up…

            And grey meets green.

So you scowl at her.  She raises a finger, as if telling you to wait just a moment, gives a parting word to the child she was helping, and disappears from view of the window.

            Now you’re just dumbfounded.

            And in a moment the door up the stoop to your left opens, and Jade leans out waving at you.  On the way here, you tried to psyche yourself up, telling yourself that you could handle seeing her, and when it got down to it, you could rely on yourself not to be a gaping moron.  Well, you were horribly wrong, because Jade in all her loveliness is here just twenty feet from you and the synapses in your brain fail.  Another piece of damning evidence against past-Karkat.  You stuff your hands in your pockets and walk to the door, taking your sweet time about it.  Only when you’re standing in the doorframe with her, possibly having an aneurism, do you speak after a mutual pause.

            “You Teach” Are the only words you have.

            “Well,” she shrugs and looks away momentarily, “I try.”  She has her nose wrinkled up in a smile again.

            “You try?”

            “You can lead a hoofbeast to water, Karkat, but short of dunking his head underwater, you can’t make him drink.”

            “Ah, the profound wisdom of Jade Harley.  Wish I’d brought a notebook.”  Nailed it.

            She rolls her eyes and appears to conclude the friendly banter.

            “You’re a bit early, you eager beaver you, and so the kids won’t be out of here for another ten minutes.  You can wait in my classroom if you like.”

            You motion your arm down the hall,

            “Lead the way.”  She leads the way.

            “Well I for one can’t wait to meet the little shits—oof!”

            ‘Oof’ denotes the elbow below your ribs:  A sharp elbow that most likely belongs to Jade.  You hold your middle and hunch, turning your head to see her still as bright and smiley as ever.

            “Karkat, if you use so much as an ounce of that language around my kids in there, I’ll sock you so hard in the mouth that the tooth fairy will leave government bonds under your pillow.”

            “Tooth fairy?  How high is that on the echeladder?”

“Glad we understand each other.”

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *         

            There is a popular theory floating about  that it is virtually impossible to retain one’s dignity in one of those silly tiny plastic toddler chairs that bend when you so much as shift your weight. 

            You can testify to this, sitting knees to chest in one such chair, shins against the edge of a chipped plastic table in a brightly coloured and densely decorated room that smells slightly of paint as most kindergartens do.

            When Jade led you to the classroom she assured you that the kids would be friendly and wonderful and would melt your heart in a manner similar to Ebola.  You hoped this to be true, and in a perfectly rom-comesque way, the kids would fall in love with you and Jade would be instantly swooning over kid-friendly Karkat.  The kids would hold up signs that would spell out your marriage proposal, she would scream her answer into the heavens, and both of you would smooch into the sunset forever more.

            What actually transpired was Jade’s introduction of “her good if somewhat rude friend Karkat” followed by blank stares, uncomfortable shifting in chairs, and a pencil thrown in your direction.  Kids have good aim nowadays

            You turned, giving Jade an almost pleading look.  She buried her face in her hand, and led you to your current seat in between two of the little monsters at the previously mentioned table, as Jade made rounds assisting with colouring, and making preparations for the end of the school day.

            Hell, she even saw fit to give you a sheet of paper and some crayons, though your drawings have yet to amount to much.

            “Hey, mister.”

            Your quiet contemplation is interrupted when you discover you’re being accosted by a chubby youngster desperately trying to give you his drawing, likely for peer review.

            “Uh, I… do you need something?”

            “The red crayon.”

            “Huh?”

            He jabs a pudgy finger to your left and repeats himself.

            “Uh, oh!  Yeah sure, here.”  He wordlessly enclosed the bit of coloured wax in his hand and continued to scribble into the parchment. 

            Oh shit, you needed the red crayon.  Damn.

            “Hey, Kahkah?”  This new pronunciation of your name perturbs you, but to each his own.

            “Y-yes?”

            “You’re Miss Hawley’s grumpy friend, right?”  Another new pronunciation…

            “Grumpy friend?  _That’s_ what she said?”

            “Mmm-hmm.  She said you were grumpy and kind of loud.”

            “Oh.  And?”

            “And what?”

            “Did she say anything else?”

            “Well, she had a dog once and-“

            “About me, you little blu- I mean you precious angel.  What about me has she said?”

            He looks you up and down as if assessing you for a very long moment.

            “Nope.  Not really.”

            You drop your jaw a bit.  This doesn’t immediately register as good or bad news.

            You sigh and thank him anyway.  Again you begin soul searching, among other things.

            “She said you’re sweet.”

            “What?”  This last part was a little loud, but it was a shocking development.  You lean in a little closer to him.  “Are you kidding, kid?”

            “No.  She said that.  But I0 don’t see it.”  Cheeky little guy.  You put on an expression of impressed astonishment and rest your jaw on your hand.  The kid, as said before, is chubby, a toddler, has a mushroom cut (a punishable offense in your opinion), kind of beady dark eyes, and a striped polo shirt.

            “Can I look at your drawing, kid?”

            With a slide of paper across plastic, you now find yourself in possession of fine art, the subject of which was indiscernible.  To this day, that fact still haunts you.  You’ll find yourself on a train and wondering just what it was.  You’ll be waiting in the doctor’s office and trying to decode the shroud of colour.  Picking up your prescription for athlete’s foot which you never tell anyone about ever, and wracking your brain as to what it could have been.  Never does it leave your mind at peace; always will it pull at your consciousness, stabbing at the back of your eyelids.  Or so you expect.  At this point you figure it was one of three things, the three being (1) a dinosaur in a dunce cap, (2) a Polaroid at the bottom of the sea, or (3) the greatest masterpiece Jackson Pollock never made.  All in all a 6 out of 10.

            You pass it back to him, nod appreciatively and remark, “It’s pretty bitchin’” You honestly don’t know why you chose the term ‘bitchin.’  You didn’t mean to swear, and it’s not even a swear word that you’re particularly fond of.  You just didn’t want to talk down to the little Picasso.  You gave him an honest, respectful review.  Plus, you’re pretty certain nobody heard so you’re in the clear.

            He grins as he takes the paper back into his paws, even wrinkling it a little. 

            “Yeah… bitchin’”

            That could be a problem.  You run a hand through your hair.

            “Kids!”

            All heads, yours included, snap up to the front of the room.  There Jade stands bright and all smiles and all incredible in all of the ways that it is possible to be and some impossible ways.  Quantum incredibility.  In the most endearing goddamn way possible, holds her hands together down at her front to announce the end of the day, how their parents were all waiting to bring them home, and how she would miss them all very much.  She really looked to mean that last part too...

            Mushroom Cut puts the now stubby red crayon back in your hand before scrambling out the door, assumingly to his loving parents.  In mere moments the place is empty, accepting for you and Jade.  The only evidence of those children is the fact that not a single goddamn one of them apparently knows how to push a chair in.

            “Aren’t they just the most adorable little things, Karkat?”  Jade is either deathly serious or teasing you.  No middle ground at the moment.  From the glassy eyed look that would otherwise have you unconscious, your guess is the former. 

            “Yeah, just delightful.  I’ve probably contracted ludicrous amounts of diseases from those rodents.”

            “You can’t fool me Karkat,” she says as she begins pushing chairs back in, “I saw how chummy you were getting with Bradley.  You love those kids to Karkat, admit it.  You’re like their big brother, you just want to shoosh pap every single one of them, don’t you?”

            “Piss off.  Bradley, that’s his name?  I referred to him as ‘Mushroom cut’ in my head. Tragedy really.”

            “I adore Bradley.  I’d adopt him and his chubby little cheeks if I could.”  She’s starry eyed and grinning.

            “So what’s stopping you?”

            She looks at you like the idiot you are before answering:

            “The fact that he has parents.”

            “Right those.  I find that they do generally oppose having their charges adopted right out from under them.  But he might be better off with you if his parents let him have that haircut.”

            “It’s so great that you can always find the worst in people, Karkat.”

            “Well, even with all my skill it isn’t flawless.  Take you for instance.  The worst I can find in you is that you make the people surrounding you as happy with themselves as you…”

            And then you sort of trailed off because _why the hell would you say that!?_ You didn’t even mean to say it; it just sort of slipped out.  Your eyes snap wide open and you nearly fling the chair you were pushing in when you realized the magnitude of idiocy you just spewed from your grubloaf tube.  That was so creepy too; I wouldn’t be surprised if she bashed your head in and called the cops.

            Instead, after an eternity-moment of intense silence, she crosses the minefield of a classroom, silently smiles a warm reassurance, and brushes your hand, ever so lightly, with hers. 

            She doesn’t say anything.  Neither do you.  You’re too nervous and flushed in both respects to even look at her.  You feel her eyes on you just the same.  As kind and gentle as the gaze is, it does nothing to ease you.  Finally you decide to just look at her face.

            Smiles are really all in the eyes.  Next smile you see, or even in a mirror, focus on the eyes.  The mouth muscles involved in smiling are useless; you’ll find all of the beauty in her/his/its eyes.  They can also be a hot knife too.  Like blown glass, the eyes can tell you most everything you need to know.

            The only word you can really think of to describe her face is radiant, insofar as her face literally radiates… radiates… there’s no word for it.  Compassion?  Humanity?  Depth?  Love?  You’re really hoping on love.

            _Oh hell, you idiot_ , you admit to yourself, _you’re in love with her._

            She’s just looking at you, into you, waiting for you to be comfortable with being looked into, or even looking back.  You shut your eyes for two long seconds hoping that you’ll be home when you open them.  You even click your heels for good measure.  But no, still green eyes.  Disappointing at first, and then sparks bloom around your heart.  She’s getting ready to speak.  You’d listen to her talk until you died.

            “You ready to see some goddamn art?”

            “What?”

            With that answer of grace, a Jade whirlwind sweeps you by the arm out of the classroom…

            …And into the maelstrom.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is more than a bit late, but it was a necessary delay. I wouldn't expect a new chapter before the new year, but stranger things have happened. I should also thank my Beta-reader Fatal Blow, who's work it is definitely worth your time to check out. As always, message me with any questions comments or concerns!

Chapter Five

Cardio and yogurt. These two things you hate the most. More than ties, more than people, these two things are what you loathe most of all. Cardio because days upon days alternately spent hunched in front of your husktop and lying on the couch have left you with lung strength that would shock an emphysema patient, and Jade making you run through the city is running you literally ragged.

And yogurt because you stepped in some three blocks back. And man, just… screw yogurt.

"C'mon, Karkat! You're falling behind! It's like you've never run before or something!" Jade somehow has the breath to shout over her shoulder at you, paces in front, and showing no signs of tiring. You don't know how she can be so perfect in every respect. She has to be smart, beautiful, and athletic? You don't buy it. Plus she's wearing a sweater, and it is the middle of goddamn summer.

"Eat shit!" That brought on a few deserved glares from passing mothers. You never really learned to censor yourself, or saw a need to, to be honest. "Why the hell are we running? Running is for people in a hurry! The gallery is open all night, and I hate running!"

"You hate everything, Karkat! Save your breath, you'll need it." She, in a moment of heavenly mercy, stopped at the next street corner to spin on her heels and grin at you. The sight of her spinning into the light, coupled with the sever lack of oxygen in your blood and brain at the moment, bids you almost collapse. You settle for panting with your hands on you knees.

"Did I already tell you to go to hell?"

"It's always been interspersed in our conversations liberally. It's been a lot more in the subtext lately but I think that just speaks to your growing sophistication."

"Well, stay in hell." This actually got an eyeroll.

"Karkat, we weren't even running for that long—"

"Six city blocks, my ass it wasn't long!"

"—As I was saying, it wasn't even that long. You must be terribly out of shape. I should bring you to a gym."

"You'd have to be dragging my cold carcass, and I'm a lot of dead weight to haul around. I can't even imagine how you'd prop me up on the treadmill." Wow, great job making that way too dark, idiot. Now she thinks you've got a healthy fascination with cadavers.

"Oh, don't worry, I won't make you run anymore. Sweaty Karkat's a pain in the ass; even more so than normal Karkat."

You're too out of breath to dignify that one with a response. Instead you just growl in a sufficiently menacing fashion and stalk off in the direction of the gallery, Jade beside you. You don't really talk much for a few minutes, partially because you don't like small talk that much, partially because you enjoy being able to walk quietly beside someone for once, but mostly because dear sweet Christ what the hell should I say? Do I give her a compliment? Should I have brought flowers? I definitely should have brought flowers.

"You don't like small talk, do you, Karkat?"

"Nope."

"Or giving people openings to continue conversations, apparently."

"Well, I mean—shit—it's just—"

"I don't like small talk too much either." She said in a manner that sounded kind of relieved.

"Oh, thank Gog…"

She actually laughed at that one. Score one for Karkat. This isn't exactly disastrous yet. Key word yet. Beautiful weather, nice part of town, you actually made Jade Harley laugh.

"Grumpy as you are, Karkat, I'm glad you came with me."

"You're a pain in the ass, Harley, but I wouldn't have thrown even you to Eridan, lousy sti—"

"I kind of meant in general."

"Oh." By 'oh' you meant 'oh s***, what am I supposed to say to that?

"But Eridan is annoying too."  
“And elitist and a snob and—“ Anger had risen in your voice before she cut you off.  
“Don’t blow a capillary Karkat.”

"Why do you teach?" you abruptly change the subject to something less uncomfortable. "Last I checked, which was never because I don't care what you do, you were super into robots and nuclear submarine engineering or some science shit like that, and not teaching little snots how to add. Teaching? It just doesn't seem like the same game."

"You don't beat around the bush do you? Well, I only teach part time." She tucks hair behind her ear and studies you as she says it. You alternate between watching your shoes connect to the pavement and looking off into the middle distance. "But I like teaching them, and it pays for school. School for that 'science shit.' In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you saw me on the cover of science weekly!" She beams.

"I would. I'd be surprised at why I'd be reading the nerdiest sounding magazine ever published. I'd be surprised at why any photographer wouldn't have run from you immediately."

"Wow. I forgot how crazy you drive me."

You run a hand through your hair in a tired way and put the other in your pocket. You look right into her eyes for a second and exhale for added effect. "I don't think I'll ever forget how crazy you drive me."

"Awww, Karkat! That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me!"

"Er, Christ, get off me! No, really, get the hell off of me!" You've been assault hugged. "It wasn't meant to be sweet!"

"Nubby-horns, if you don't think I know you well enough to read between the lines, you've got another thing coming. Now shut up and cross the street."

With only that as a warning, she dashes heroically across the street, paying no mind at all to the cars that by all rights should have hit her. Damned space powers

"You-You didn't even look one -let alone both- ways!" you shout, flabbergasted, as she smirks from across the street.

"You know we don't have all day, Karkat!"

You hate it when she's right. And against your better judgement, you take off at a half-trot across the street which you immediately regret. You see a simultaneous look of terror alight on Jade's face and an ear-piercing shriek of tires screeching on hot pavement. Instinctively you recoil and brace for it in a not completely graceful way, waiting for your cranium to smack into either window shield or blacktop with your eyes squeezed shut.

No impact… but whoever is behind the wheel is laying on the horn. When you open your eyes, a belligerent looking asshole with little piggy eyes is sneering at you and shouting out the window.

"Why don't you use a goddamn crosswalk, you blooming idiot!"

"Why don't you eat hell! Who says blooming anyway?!" you rebuke as you scamper off of the street to Jade's side to watch this jackass roll away in his shit-piecs Subaru. 

"Yeah, keep driving, ass-hat!"

Jade had been standing looking astonished at the whole near fatal turn of events, but as your brush with death ends, you can see new humor take shape in her face.

"Not a word Harley," you warn her.

"Did you just tell that guy-"

"What did I just say? Not a word about it."

"Karkat, you told him to eat hell! Don't try to tell me that wasn't adorable!" You had this coming.

"I-I'd like to see you keep your poise in a brush with death like that; I almost got run down by a two ton machine, on your watch no less! Go play in the street and come back to me with the results."

She shakes her head and leans it to one side to study you, with something that doesn't quite seem to be disappointment in her eyes. "Sometimes you can be such an idiot…"

When she lays her eyes on you, you feel yourself unclench your teeth. You exhale deeply. The invisible and imperceptible tension in your shoulders unclasps and they fall visibly.

"Sometimes I'm inclined to agree." Instead of spacing out forever in her green eyes, you take a moment to tear out of her gaze and brush past her on down the road. "Come on, let's just go see some dumb paintings."

"Be careful when crossing the street from now on, dear, I wouldn't want you splattered all over the pavement."

"How about I- just shut up."

"Awww, Karkat," she adopts a motherly and condescending tone to make fun of you this time, "do you need to hold my hand when crossing the street?"  
"Shut up!" You're really hoping she can't see you reddening, or hear your voice rise in pitch. In fact, you're about to launch into another tirade when the front of the movie theatre beckons to you, and you stop to check out what's being released this week. All garbage.

"Jesus, Karkat, give a girl some warning. I mean, I know you like movies and all, but…"

"I always check the fronts." You straighten up, having concluded your inspection. "Nothing good is coming out. But they are having a late night showing of 'Sixteen Candles' on Thursday."

"Lame." She huffs. How dare she…

"Lame? Lame? That movie—that movie, Jade, is one of the high points of cinematography."

"If your planet's version is anything like ours, I can assure you, it's not. How do you manage to catch up on all human cinema anyway, I thought you didn't even like our movies."

"Well, actually, I've noticed something about that. And it may sound crazy. It is crazy, it's batshit insane. Throughout all of my forays into film, both domestic and foreign, Alternian and Earthern, I've found," you pause a moment to lower your rising voice, "I've found that every single troll movie, through some universal anomaly, has a near exact human duplicate. Every one."

"Every one?" she asks, not sounding impressed by your field work.

"Every nookbusting one." She's taking it rather well you think.

"You're a little insane, aren't you, grumpy?" There goes your ego boost for today.

"What? What do you mean, it's the truth!"

"Karkat, we both know it's a ridiculous theory. Two completely separate, yet admittedly analogous cultures, with radically different customs, located light years away from each other, would never line up for something as silly as a movie."

"Firstly, movies are art, don't ever deny that in front of me. Secondly, I shit you not, Jade Harley, every single one of your human movies has an exact troll copy, or may lightning fry me on the spot! You guys have you own Will Smith, we have a Will Smith, don't tell me that isn't bizarre!"

"I think I'll let you keep your dweebish movies to yourself."

"Fine," you puff, "If that's your attitude toward them, I wouldn't want them sullied by your patronage anyway." But you decide maybe it's time to let it go. For now.

For the better part of this walk, you've been in a nice part of town: Beautiful buildings, open shops, kids frolicking and all of that malarkey. The only problem you can see is the flower shop you're about to walk by.

You're once again tortured by your nagging mind. Oh shit, you think, should I buy her flowers? Would that make this a date? Is this a date? No? Yes? It isn't. But if I don't buy flowers, she'll think I'm okay with it not being a date…

This train of self-interrogation lasts you past the stand anyway, and away from the steely gaze of its elderly attendant. Well, that ship has sailed.

"Some gentleman you are, Vantas. You didn't even offer to buy me flowers." Son of a… The impulse hits you hard enough to spin her around to face you and look her in the face with your sudden joyless excitement.

"You want a flower, Jade?"

"What?"

"I'll get you the god-damnedest flower you ever saw!"

"Karkat, what are you doing?" she calls after you, shocked.

But she's too late; you're off like a shot, sprinting back toward the stand before you can be stopped. Once you reach the table, trying to avoid the shocked senseless stare of the owner, you tear one fine specimen away from its brethren, bringing a dozen or so down as you sweep it up into your arms. You gracelessly watch them fall noiselessly to the sidewalk before you fall back on your butt from your own momentum. But before the owner can react, you're on your feet and doubling back toward Jade, who is looking absolutely mortified.

"Karkat, what the hell do you think you're doing!?" In lieu of an answer, you grab her wrist and pull her with you as you run past.

"Keep up, Harley, and we can outrun this guy!" You really hope that's true; he seems to have enough wits about him to be screaming and running after you. All for one lousy flower? Yeesh.

You're not even sure what came over you. You're sure you looked more panicked than anything during the whole ordeal. You just run. You just take Jade and run for blocks, twisting and turning enough to lose your pursuer, but not so much as to lose your way to the gallery, before finally stopping for much needed breath in the shade of a nearby sapling.

"Karkat, you dirty thief," Jade is laughing between panting breaths, "you of all people… What was that all about?"

You're still recovering breath too violently to answer, but you think you can hear well enough to detect Jade's attitude change from entertainment to annoyance. "I mean, yeah it was just a dumb flower, but you stole it idiot," she snorts when she laughs, "And I was joking about the whole gentleman thing." You're still panting too hard to respond. 

"And why the hell did you have to drag me all that way for a plant you could have spent three dollars on, a stupid plant you nincom—"

"Here."

You turn your head and extend one hand to her, holding the flower, and you both get a good look at it for the first time. A long, smooth stem, slender and bright green, fleshy and likely bitter to the taste, sloping into white petals, three, that curve and peel gently outwards into broader sheaves with flecks of indeterminate color along their medians. Nestled in the seat of the petals are three lavender, antennae-like lengths, each with a delicate yellow puff of pollen on the end.

She looks just as taken aback as you. She reaches forward without taking her eyes off of it, and slips her hands around yours briefly to take it from you. You think you love her hands. They are slender and fine, and at one point, must have been dainty and delicate looking, before seasons spent tilling earth and feeling the grime of the earth has left them with an ageless quality of substance. Hands with character.

She has the flower cupped in her hands like cleanest water, just below her chin so that the petals bounce softly on the air just below her lips and accent their flush. It's close enough to her nose for her to catch the smell, but far enough away to be seen in perfect detail, and from where you are, at an angle just fortunate enough to reflect as a slight white shield in her eyes.

"Karkat…" she starts. She says nothing else for a few moments that could constitute a life age before uttering, "Beautiful."

Now you stand up straight, and plant yourself just in front of her so that the plant rests equidistant between the two of you both. A perfect moment, perfectly romantic. You stand at equal height with her. You love that about her, among everything else, no matter how much you deny it, she was your equal, if not your superior, in every respect, and she knew it.

You cup your hands under hers, taking your part of the miniscule weight of the flower. What can you even say?

'You are the more beautiful flower, Jade.' Yuck, awful. How could you even…

'Yeah, beautiful like you, Jade.' Boooooo….

"It is."

Her hands aren't warm, not at first. Her skin is soft as expected, but you think you can even feel the rich soil in them, and the tips of her fingers are cool before the long silence allows them to warm. Your contact doesn't seem to set her off, she isn't blushing or sweating or flinching. A strand of her hair catches the breeze and lays across your wrist. It's the little things.

"I'm gonna have to carry it around all day, won't I?" Jade asks, killing with zeal the mood, which conflicts with you. Yeah, it ended on a high note, and you didn't make a complete ass of yourself, but could you have made it something more? Should you have? Actually, no.

"Wow, Jade, I adopt a life of crime for you, and you won't carry a piece of flora. Goddamn waste."

"Oh shut up, I'm joking"

You sigh with faux dejectedness, "I'll carry it for you if you really want."

"No, no," she stops you, "I think I want to hold it." She takes in the scent of it again. "It really is lovely, Karcrabby."

"Don't call me that." Assholery won't cover your blushing… "Anyway, let's just go see some stupid paintings. They might even have little cubes of fancy cheese on platters."

"Well, I'm sold," responds Jade as she jumps to your side. "Why Mr. Vantas, I do declare that that sounds delightful!" She places her fist on her hip for a moment before gesturing it in a sweeping motion down the street. "Won't you lead the way?"

You turn an idea over in your head for a moment. Should I? Eh, I'm feeling brave, why the hell not. You snap your heels together, and extend the crook of your arm for her to take. She gives you a knowing smirk and loops her arm through yours.

"I'd be honored, Miss Harley."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels like just yesterday I was getting cracking on chapter 1, and now here we are at the penultimate piece. It took a little longer than I had originally hoped, with exams and all, but it’s here now. I want to thank my beta Fatal Blow, whose work it is worth your time to peruse. Send me a message or a review should you have concerns or questions. And enjoy!

Your name is SOLLUX CAPTOR, and you’re sitting in your apartment wondering how Karkat is going to take the news. Hopefully he’ll be in a good mood after his date with Jade; an event which your whole group is waiting eagerly to hear the results of. He’s kind of an oblivious idiot.  
You get up from your computer desk to fix another pot of coffee, and thank god Karkat hasn’t been here much today, because he makes the _worst_ coffee to have ever passed over your tongue. He also eats all of the Little Debbie snack cakes, so you’ve actually had a few of those today. You guess you shouldn’t be trashing Karkat too much; he’s your best friend, though you wound eat a brick before admitting it. You especially shouldn’t be giving him a hard time considering what you’ve got to tell him.

Speak of the Devil, you can hear thumping and stumbling from the hallway, and it does not bode well: Karkat loses his coordination when he’s in emotional turmoil. Good thing you just put a fresh pot on. After listening to him struggle with the lock for a few minutes you decide to make things a little bit easier for him and open the door. He is still frozen in the action of turning a key as he looks at you like a deer in the headlights.

You can tell by the look in his eyes…

“You fucked up.”

“I fucked up so bad, Sollux…” He groans as he tumbles into the apartment and slumps against the kitchen counter.

“You don’t drink.” You say levelly as he looks at you, perplexed.

“Yeah, jack-wagon, I don’t. Not in great quantity or frequency anyhow. Why?” He replies, beginning to get defensive.

“Because you smell like cheap beer, self-loathing, and forehead sweat.”

“Oh my god, Sollux, disgusting, and also I had two, just two, drinks on the way home.”

Whenever Karkat drinks, even a little, he gets emotional. Not irrational, drunk dialing, second-hand embarrassment worthy emotional, he just gets kind of soul searchy and overly-brotherly.

“Whatever,” you continue, pouring him a mug of actually decent coffee, “It’s not like you can even hold your liquor anyways, you lightweight.”

“Go to Hell, I can drink you under the table!”

“No you can’t” You say, trying to keep cool about Karkat’s antics

“Oh I know…” He sighs as he buries his head in his hands”

Deep breaths sollux. After you finally get him standing, holding his mug and significantly calmed down, you seat yourself across the kitchen counter.

“So what happened? Did you try to cop a feel? No, let me guess, she caught you sniffing her hair, didn’t she?” In your mind you know you shouldn’t be egging him on, but the opportunity presents itself so perfectly…

“I should strangle you.”

“Did she dislocate your shoulder after you tried to put your arm around her?” You asked while leaning in with a smirk.

“I am holding a scalding hot mug of coffee that would just love to be splashed in your face right now.”

“Try me,” you say as you top his mug off as if in a stupid way of asserting your dominance.

“Ok.” He sighs as he breathes the smell of the coffee in deeply. “It all started after the petty theft…”  
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“Jade?”

“Yes, Karkat?”

“That guy over there is staring at us.”

Surprisingly, you were both able to get to the gallery without further tomfoolery, as if it were fate’s way of giving you a breather before whatever blitzkrieg of misfortune was bound to assault you next. The gallery itself was a rather nice place, you decide. Oyster colored tiling, dark marble walls that fan inward from the windowless walls to lead you through the exhibit. The art itself is aligned along said skewed partitions.

At the moment, you and Jade are studying a particularly unpleasant painting of a vineyard that grows faces instead of grapes. You are unsettled by this, but hey, who are you to judge fine art?

“Which guy?” Jade asks, looking around with concern.

“That one, in the tunic.” You align with her, nearly touching cheeks mind you, and point out the spy.

“…Karkat that’s a statue.” She informs you, as if reassuring a child.

“Oh… Well, it’s not my fault it’s so creepily realistic. It’s like in “The Trollar Express”, the animation was so creepy and…real. Doesn’t stop me from loving Troll Tom Hanks. Did you see him in “Sleepless in Trolleatle?”

She glances at you sidelong and grins, “I’ve been wrong before though, maybe it isn’t a statue. In fact, I think he’s giving you serious bedroom-eyes right now.” She threw a wink your way for good measure.

“Oh my good Gog, shut up. Shut up, and never say anything like that again.”

“One might even say he’s…” Oh, she had better not.

“Don’t you dare…” You brace for impact.

“…Rock hard for you.” She’s grinning and biting her lips so eager to see your reaction.

“I could not possibly hate you, nor anything, more than I do right now.”  
 

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“What do you think of this one?” You ask, referring to a lovely painting of a mountain. It rises, devoid of vegetation, into a blue plane of view, and starts off with normal proportions before tapering off into a crooked peak.

“It’s a steaming pile of shit.” She answers without missing a beat.

“That was surprisingly vulgar and brutally honest of you. Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“No Karkat, I mean you are literally showing me a painting of a steaming pile of shit!”

You turn your head at her and recoil a bit, “What the hell are you blathering about, it’s a mountain!”

“No, Karkat, it is a pile of stinky stinky doo-doo.” She is now laughing at you. _The nerve…_

“Can’t you see there’s the—oh… _Oh!_ Oh…”

“Yeah see there’s the handle of the shovel and there’s--”

“I got it, I got it…” You puff out a lungful of air and pout dejectedly at what was once a mountain in your mind. When times were simpler…  
You are now one painting wiser. She puts her arm on your shoulder and kisses you on the cheek. Her lips are warm, soft, and you can feel their imprint long after the lips themselves are gone.

“Come on, let’s go see if they have cocktail weenies, you weenie.”  
       

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“How about this one, fuckass?” Jade stops you abruptly to study a sad clown painting. Something about him tugs at a strange bit of sympathy from the corner of your heart.

“Douchie.” You answer bitterly; ever since the manure painting, you have been much more cynical and cautious of art.

“What a shame, I was considering stealing it so that I could hang it above my mantle.” She’s teasing you now; who would want this above their mantle?

“Jade, you are a shithive lunatic. How would you even sneak this out of here, it’s bigger than you!”

“Karkat, check it out. No matter where you are, it never looks directly at you…” You watch her lean way over on both sides to illustrate her point.

You cast a glance over your shoulder to catch the peeved glares of the other art goers. Both of you felt scorned by them and under-dressed when you arrived; the other patrons were dressed to the nines in starched collars and boorish dresses. You both ceased caring when you realized what a bunch of stuck up pisspouches they all were.  
Before you even realize it, Jade is at another part of the exhibit, looking at a statue. Oh no, she is not just looking…

“Oh my Gog, Jade, what the screaming Hell are you doing?” You whisper harshly as you catch up to your date, who is now involved in the questionable action of cupping the statue’s butt. She throws a smirk reeking of mischief at you before answering.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“It looks like you’re getting us kicked out of here because you’re harassing the art, Jesus dicks!” You answer, trying to wrestle her hands away from the poor statue.

“What, no, Karkat stop it,” she fights to keep her hand put and grows more excited with the commotion, “It’s so smooth, I can’t help it!”  
Your hands fumble and fall to your sides when she says this, and your already red face breaks into laughing shambles while you crack up.

“Karkat, seriously, this booty is so firm you’ve got to try it.” She has mastered the ability to remain completely poised and earnest in connoisseurism of statue butts.

“Oh me Gog, people will see…” She grabs your wrist and tries to guide it toward the twin of the buttock she is touching.

“Who cares? They’ll just have to _turn the other cheek,_ so to speak.” She elbows your rib as she makes this shameless pun. “Can’t you hear the booty calling to you?”

“Turn the other—Sweet Christ on the hood of a four-door coupe, Jade this is insanity.” You can’t help that your defenses are weakening every time you see her like this.

“Just one feel and I’ll drop the subject literally and figuratively.” She looks at you mischievously. You bite your lip and look around for witnesses.

Wow, that marble really is smooth. You vocalize this. Jade is already giggling.

“Told you! So how was your first butt-touch, Karkat?”

“That was not my—Shut up!”

But Jade had already dragging you away to find the next unsuspecting, inanimate victim. This girl was going to kill you. You were standing in front of a Greek style dancing lady, and Jade was bumping her eyebrows up and down at you. You dragged your hand down your face to cover the smirking. How can she do this to you? Then again, you know as well as she that you are powerless against her charms.

“Jade, people are beginning to talk.”

“Let them talk,” she seems to be talking more toward the statue now, even laying a dainty kiss on her cheek. “It won’t get in the way of Denise and mine’s love.” She swoons and pinches the statues nipples and you look away crimson-cheeked. You’re both really starting to attract some attention now…

“Denise?! What the seedflapping mulch muncher are you talking about?!” You can’t get her to let go. “Are you saying you named it?”

“Don’t judge our love because you can’t understand it.” She declares with a breathy voice as she brushes Denise’s cheek with the back of her hand, looking longingly into the lifeless eyes.

“Jade. Jade! We are quite literally going to be thrown out of here if you do not stop.”

“You’re just jealous!” She mocks back at you in a singsong voice.

“I am not! And this is going to end up just like that episode of _‘Hopeless Romantic Architect Twenty-Something in Manhattan Tells his Future Children of his Search for Their Mother!’”_

A sly grin grows on her face and she leans over to you, lips almost to your ear. You swallow hard as red returns to your cheeks and you stand petrified before she finally whispers…

“ _Chicken_.”

“What?!”

“You are a chicken” She purrs again.

You begin to refute when she places the backs of her hands on her hips and flaps her elbows, squawking all the while.

“Bawk bawk!”

“I am not dignifying this with a response.” Jegus Hell, you think, much to your chagrin, it is unfair that she can be cute while impersonating an egg-beast.

“Jade, for the love of—“

“I can’t hear you! Baw-gawk! There are too many chickens around, baaaawk!”  
She is presently chicken-stepping around you, and gathering many looks of amazement, disgust, and silent appreciation for the lost art form from passerby. Also many people are telling you, in kinder words, to quiet the fuck down. This is getting out of hand.

“Jade, this is getting out of hand.” Your hands ball up at your sides and you fold your arms, trying to dodge her eyes at all times. It is indignant Karkat’s time to shine.

“You mean out of talon?” She snorts at her own joke and you cringe.

“ _Grrrr_ … you have awoken the bear, Jade Harley.”

She is paying you no mind. Your date is also now behind you pecking at the air, still garnering attention, and throwing one leg back, akin to our feathery brethren. You step forward, nod at the crowd with all of the dignity of a man walking to the gallows, and press both hands up against the motherly bosom of the statue.

“Ha! How about that for chicken, Jade!  Jade?” But when you turn around, she is standing with her head in her hand, mortified at your idiocy and you would later find out, your inability to hear her telling you to cut it out. Behind her about two arms’ length are two intimidatingly tall men in starched suits who you presume to be security. A throng of people surround the scene. You are still fondling the statue. Caught with hands red and also full of boob.

You snap back into the moment and wipe your hands on your shirt to face the guards and Jade.

“Karkat, I can’t believe you--” she begins heatedly before you cut her off.

“I’ve got this, Jade.” You wave her off coolly.

“What?!” She hisses at you while the guards wait stone-faced.

“Jade, I’ve totally got this, don’t worry.” You approach the guards. You’ve totally got this.

“Evening, gentlemen.”  
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“In hindsight, it may have been a bit out of line to call them raging fuckasses, and I definitely could’ve left the bit about their upbringing out of things,” lamented one Karkat Vantas as he walked one Jade Harley back to her apartment. Night had fallen, and despite having been forever banned from the art gallery, the pair was strangely pleased. So pleased, in fact, that they had silently agreed that holding hands was in order.

“I still can’t believe it too three of them to restrain you. It was an impressive feat to say the least. Angry Karkat is like fighting a spider monkey,” she laughed as she walked barefoot; you were holding her shoes in your other hand.

“Yeah, but I think they bruised me ass bone when they threw me onto the sidewalk. Thank you for coming to my rescue, by the way. I thought that one really tall guy was out for the count when you hit him with your shoe.” You brandish the now broken shoe. It died valiantly in battle as a warrior-poet, and deserved such in death.

“What, and let them manhandle my date? That is a privilege reserved to me,” she said back, “One I will try not to abuse. That is, if you behave.”

“Great, I’m glad that’s at your discretion. I hope you know I didn’t want that to escalate to violence, but he started it,” you pouted. And he totally did start it, but you didn’t want Jade to think you reveled in senseless violence. She might realize, and rightly, that she was too good for you.

“Normally I’d tell you what a short-tempered idiot you are for taking a swing at that six foot four dude, but it was fun, and we got off pretty light. I didn’t get manhandled, we kept the flower, and they didn’t call the police,” she said as she beamed at you.

“We were banned for life. They took our pictures and put them at the front desk so that we can’t sneak back in.”

“Hell with them then! The art sucked, and those people were all stuck up, pretentious gonads! I don’t quite know how Rose stands them.”

“And how,” you agree, nodding your head her way. The next bit is a considerable risk, you even shut your eyes pre-emptively, “I’m really glad I came with you today.”

In the moment before she responds you grow increasingly more aware of the arc that your joined hands make swinging back and forth between you. You’re increasingly more aware of the almost non-existent sound of her feet on the cement, and the sheen of the streetlight in her hair. So caught up with these things were you, that you missed her response completely.

“Hey, nubby-horns, did you hear me?” she asked.

“Sorry, spaced out. What?” She rolled her eyes before repeating herself.

“I said that I’m glad you came with me too, and it was the most fun I’ve had in a while.”

As much as you should have been satisfied, as impossibly happy as that moment made you, as content as someone as loathingly pitiful as you should have been just to be near her, you just want to kiss her more than anything. It almost…hurt. There was a strange and bitter pain in wanting something so close.

“Well,” she says, interrupting your reverie, “this appears to be my stop.

She has her back to the steps of a rather pleasant looking three story apartment building. She holds both your hands in hers for a moment that goes by too quickly before stepping backwards onto the first step on the stoop. She’s got one hand on your new favorite flower, which you’re amazed she was able to keep a grip on.

You take a step forward, opening your mouth to speak, but no words come out, and you just stand mid-stride with a question on your face. In frustration with your own ineptitude you tip your head back and pinch the bridge of your nose. With your eyes now closed you’re aware of the way the heavy night air holds your skin. When you open your eyes you are taken completely by surprise.

There are green leaves of plants and fruits on the edge of her roof. Lots and lots of hanging and growing flora over her rooftop. She must see that you’ve noticed because she giggles at you.

“You like it? It’s my garden.” When you finally tear your eyes away to look back at her there is something tender there, and she asks you a simple question.

“Would you like to come up and see it?”

_Would you like to come up and see it?_ The question rings a thousand times in your head she’s looking at you. Nothing in her face is changed; she’s just looking you right in the eyes. You almost can’t think looking at eyes like hers.

The smile on her face is gone and replaced with something unidentifiable and she lifts a hand toward you. You gulp, and place your foot on the step. You start raising your hand toward hers and everything slows. You can see her face change; she doesn’t look sure anymore. There is apprehension there, a flush grows in her cheeks and her eyes widen.

You swear she starts leaning in. _She is, she is, she’s leaning!_

Your hand is close to hers…

And your brain locks down. And your hands close around hers and shake them vigorously.

“Well, this has certainly been—has certainly been delightful! We really should do it again sometime; it was fucking peachy!” She looks like she’s just come out of a bad acid trip. _Karkat, what the fuck are you doing?!_ Your entire thinkpan is fried and fused to itself: You have jumped the metaphorical cliff. You’re screaming in your mind: _Jade no oh Gog what the Hell am I doing please stop me someone stop me!_

You don’t even give her time to respond; throwing a short salute her way, turning sharply on your heel, and walking briskly away down a very familiar street called self-destruction.  
          

                       *                    *                      *                     *                    *                       *                        *                        *

Ruining any chance you might have even entertained the fantasy of having with Jade and then spilling your guts about it to your asshole roommate is not how you planned on spending your evening.

“Wow. You completely screwed the pooch, KK. Or rather, you screwed yourself out of ever having the chance to screw the pooch; the pooch being, if you follow me, a certain—”

“Alright, I get it.” You sat slumped against the kitchen counter, head between your knees, too regret-ridden to be angry with him.

“Well? What’s your next move?” From Fort Self-Loathing you can hear Sollux ask you.

“Retreat to my room forever, cry in a manly fashion and hope repress all memories of today.” You can hear his eyes roll.

“I mean about Jade, you neurotic asinine tool.” Sollux corrects himself, adding particular acid coldness on his insults.

“What the living breathing Hell do you mean ‘about Jade?!’ I’m done; I bunged it up and convinced Jade that I am an inept ass-wad. That’s it, game over, man, end of story.”

“ _Are you…_ ” He starts with a rising voice, “I should hit you…”

“What?” You lift your head from your knees to look at him, shock plain in your eyes.

“Jade deals with your sorry ass nearly daily, makes it a point to be good to you, forgives you for every past fuck-up, and you still want to let her go?!”

“Don’t get—I didn’t…”

“No, fucking seriously, Jade, if you haven’t noticed, lights up like the light on a waffle iron whenever your around, she asks you out on this date, and you give up?! Who the Hell do

you think you are?!”

He strikes a point. And then a few dozen more.

“No, she doesn’t, Sollux, it…” you trail off, beginning to think he may be right. Good thing you have friends who aren’t afraid to tell you when you’re being a dick.

“KK, what is it you’re so afraid of that you’re subconsciously trying to sabotage yourself?” He asks you with his voice softening. You place your head back in your hands.

“I don’t deserve her, Sollux…” You think you’ve always known it. You can hear Sollux shift around while the silence hangs. And then you hear the last thing you expected.

“You’re right.” It’s said calmly and convincedly, but it lacked any malice. It was just a fact, and spoken that way.

_Huh?_

“You don’t.”

You snap back up to look at him. He’s just staring back at you, expressionless. _What is with him tonight? He’s never this supportive or emotionally attuned…_

“You do not deserve Jade Harley. You know it, I know it, and I’m pretty damn sure she knows it too, and she chooses to stick around with you anyway. So _how dare you_ let her go that easy?” He looks at you, nearly squinting behind his glasses in focus as if studying you, wondering how this sad sack could ever be called a knight.

“Sollux…” You stand as you shake your head, “I hate you sometimes, but I especially hate you when you’re right.”

“Yeah, well…” he stands cross-armed in front of you looking sassy and flippant as usual, “I can’t just let you be a raging idiot all the time. Especially considering…”

“…Considering what?” you ask as he trails off. He sighs and rubs the back of his neck.

“I’m moving out.”

There are a thousand things you have to say.

“Oh,” and after a moment of uncomfortable and eye-contact free silence, “Aradia, right?”

“Yeah, me and Aradia. Finally moving in together…”

“I’m happy. For you, that is. I’m glad to know there’s someone out there who can stand to be around you 24/7.” You huff half-jokingly while you stuff your hands in your pockets and scuff your shoe on the floor.

“Thanks, KK…” The corners of his lips twitch upward in an almost imperceptible smile as the weight of it comes off his shoulders. You shove past him off to your room.

“Don’t let the door fuck you in the butt on the way out. Be out of here by Monday.”

“No, wait, KK!” He starts after you, “Don’t be like this, it isn’t like that!”

“Oh fuck you!” you shout as you slam the door and flop onto your bed for a good therapeutic stare at the ceiling. You hear footsteps approach and see their shadows under the door before they pause and depart.

Of course Sollux was going to be leaving. Everyone does, or has, or will; you lost track. Why did you even stay with these people? Better question, why did any of these people even stay with you? It was supposed to be you and Sollux. You and Sollux against… against you don’t know what; just that there was something to be against. And that made you figure out why you were really angry. You felt left behind, at the end of all things. You felt left behind because Sollux had what you always wanted. He had love, and you wanted Jade. You wanted Jade like it’s the only thing you’ve ever known you wanted.

Suddenly, you remember the vision you had of her when you were at John’s. You want that. You wanted to wake up next to Jade, you wanted to hold her tight and to breathe in her hair and press your face into her shoulder. You wanted her to sit by you and hold your hand. You wanted to kiss her in her dorky face just because you fucking could. You need her because you love her.

And now you were mad because you fucked it all up and Sollux was going to leave too. That must be why he wanted you to try again… From day one he knew that you wanted, needed, even if you yourself didn’t know it, a matesprit. No, fuck that, a lover. A lover, a girlfriend, a fiancé, or a wife or a soul-mate or whatever the fuck humans call them, you were looking for yours. And now that Sollux had found his, he saw in you how it felt to be without one.  
That asshole. He treats you like his human brother or something.

With a sigh you creak the door open and walk down the hallway to see your soon-to-be ex-roomie with his back to you sitting poor-postured at his computer desk.

“Hey, you bifurcated bastard,” he straightens up in his seat and lets his headphones rest on his scrawny shoulders to spin his chair around to meet your gaze, looking resentful as ever, “I didn’t mean what I said before.”

“I know.” Oh, that bastard, he’s going to drag this out isn’t he…

“I’m…glad that things are going the way they are for you in your life. What you’ve got with Aradia is… beautiful in its level of vomit-worthiness.” A sentence that starts off laden with awkward brotherly sentiment ends in a shell of insult. A thin shell.

“Wish I could say the same for you,” he snorts back.

“Oh, eat me…And thanks for kicking my ass about it.”  
His expression grows pensive and he nods at you, and you nod back, effectively saying all of the things that would otherwise get lost in translation between the dysfunctional pair of you.

“I’ll tell you what I won’t miss,” he calls after you as you retreat to you room. “At least Aradia knows how to make a half-decent cup of coffee!”

“If you think I’m helping you pack, you’re batshit!”

“Yeah, have fun figuring out how to pirate your own shitty goddamn movies.” He’s almost laughing again at his last line. You’re glad for that.

_Let him win, Karkat_ , you think, setting down on your bed for a night sans sleep.

_You’ve got a woman to woo._


	7. Chapter 7

Neckties and the Art of Getting Kicked Out of Galleries

            You should probably stop loitering like a fucking idiot.

            You, being Karkat Vantas, should probably hike up your big boy pants, march across that street, knock on Jade Harley’s apartment door and beg for the chance to explain yourself, like a goddamn adult.

            You will not.  You will instead start on the third muffin today, just to have an excuse to be sitting at the café across the street working up your nerve, if all of this cupcake consumption didn’t kill you first.  No, for now the best course of action is to sit in this awful metal chair and glance over at windows in the brickwork, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jade as she passes by, if she’s even home…

            Beads of sweat roll down your sides, equal parts heat and nervousness.  Nervousness or fear.  Apparently there was a difference.  You don’t even remember who, but somebody said to you once that nervousness is what you feel before you do something you want to do, and fear before you do something you don’t want to go through with.

            Such a load of trash.  I mean, of course you _want_ to talk to Jade. Hell, you want to do more than talk. You want to hold her hand and whisper sweet nothings like a fucking moron and smooch her all the time, but by no means does that make you unafraid.

            You run both your hands up your face, and through your thick hair, not even minding the sweaty feel of your palms on your skin.  Life is peaches.

            You sigh with desperation as you lean against the table more, placing your chin in one hand and looking toward the apartment building once more.  You had no idea which one was Jade’s, not that it mattered.  Maybe you thought you could tell by looking, as if a little bit of her impetuous silliness would leak through.  The garden on the roof is as beautiful as ever though…

            Still all blooming with life, letting seeds fall with petals to dance on the heavy air to the pavement below.  Something did seem different though.  It seemed there was one new addition.  You couldn’t quite make it out, and when you did, you couldn’t quite believe it. 

            Feverishly you unstick yourself from the chair and untangle your legs from the table to stumble upward and away from the messy place setting.  You stuff your hand in your back pocket and struggle to get your wallet out and fish for a five to fling on the table.  You haven’t moved your eyes from that spot on the roof the whole time.

            Your legs move without you even thinking about it, and you step out from under the café overhang as if in a trance, staring up against the bright empty sky to that fixed point on the roof ledge.  People are looking at you, wondering if you think you see a UFO, and for all you know, it might as well be; it’s about as likely as what you think is there.  You still can’t see it clearly.  It’s possible that you’re simply so emotionally overtaxed, admittedly your own fault, that your vision is going hazy.  You might just be passing out from heat exhaustion, what with you forgetting to drink water and all.

            You step into the street without even looking, without even listening for tell-tale sounds of engines.  You stand on the white line and stare upwards, arms goofishly at your side.  The sun is in front of you, just barely in sight enough to sting the behinds of your eyes and silhouette all else but you don’t even squint. 

            It’s a flowerpot.  An ordinary clay flowerpot.  Too big for the dainty little thing inside it, in fact, you can only see enough of it at this angle to recognize that it’s the one you stole yesterday.  A dainty little white flower, three long petals wilting in the heat, bouncing with the air, and being otherwise perfect.

            It’s the flowerpot, however, that bears significance too.  It’s oversized because somebody needed the space to draw on it in chalk.  Almost as if it needed to be large enough to be seen, like putting a lantern in a window.  If ever there were a sign…

            It was an awful, cartoonish little drawing of a shouting face, adorned with little candy corn head protrusions.  It was really an awful likeness…

            It could’ve meant anything to anyone, but for you, it was really the most important thing you’d ever seen.  She didn’t give up on you.  You didn’t know how you knew it, or how that scribble signaled it, but she didn’t give up on you.  Looking back, she never did. She always listened, was always ready to put up with you, never backed down… she was the only person who could ever throw back your bullshit in just the right way.

            And it meant that she could see you.  I mean, really see you. As in see right through you.  Only Jade Harley could turn a petty theft into an act of kindness.  Of seeing someone’s imperfections and still not giving up on them. 

            Your fists clenched.  Your teeth gritted.  You even rolled up your sleeves to tell yourself you were serious.  And then you marched forward…

            …For about three feet until you heard a screech of rubber and felt a bull tackle you below the waste. 

            Your body curled and rolled up onto the hot metal hood of whatever car hit you until you almost hit their windshield, and then you were thrown back off.  You fell down on your ass onto the blacktop and let your eyes jar themselves back into focus as the yellow can in front of you blared its horn. 

            By the feel of it, you were hit almost at a dead stop, and nothing felt broken.  You rose to your feet, dusting off your pants and taking your sweet time about it for the cab driver who hit you and started beeping instead of seeing if you were alright.  You stepped aside and swept your arms to the side like you were holding a door open for it, glaring at the cab driver as you shouted at him that, and I’m paraphrasing, “pedestrians have the right of fucking way and I hope your thighs get stuck to the cheap rubber seat so you have to call triple A to pry you off with the jaws of life.  Your insurance isn’t gonna pay that shit, buddy.”

            It squealed off and you stood in a huff, still in the middle of the street, ignorant of staring passerby, until you screamed into the sky.  That happens more than you’d like to admit actually… the cars and the screaming.

            “I fucking hate cars!”

            “Karkat what the fuck are you doing!?”

            You spun around at the all-too-familiar voice and let your mouth drop.  Seeing Jade here reminded you that you were completely unprepared, and also incompetent.  You scrambled off the road onto the pavement.  She stood on her stoop, large purse slung over her shoulder, and sunhat shading her perfect face and green summer dress.

            Your mouth flaps open a couple of times.  Your hands point to the street silently.  You are actually completely off your guard.

            “Directing traffic,” you finally answer.  She looks at you as if you were insane. That’s a poor simile; you might, in fact, be insane. She looked at you as if you stood naked at her doorstep.

            “Oh my God, Karkat…” she pinches the bridge of her nose, sounding frankly rather tired of your shit, “What are you doing here?”

            You put your hands up, trying to look less aggressive than normal, “I just came to talk, and that’s all.”

            “Really?” She crossed her arms and smirked “because last time you wanted to talk to me, standing in this spot too, I remember, you peed your pants and ran home crying like a baby.”

            “I only did one of those things!” You interjected, pointing a finger at her and taking a step forward, just in front of her front steps. She snickers at your panic. You should be making a better effort to mask that…

            “I really just came to talk, Jade, if it’s not so fucking hard to believe. I just wanted to explain why I had to go and be such an ass-nozzle last night.”

            “Jeez, only last night?” She really knew how to push you… you only glare at her. She shrugs, “You’re right, neither of us has _that_ much time.”

            “For the love of fuck, Jade, you—“You cut yourself off and begin clenching and unclenching your hands.  Deep breaths, deep breaths.  Finally you bring up your head to lock eyes.

            She actually looks not completely pissed. Almost as if she wants to know what happened with you last night… Dear lord does she have to be that good looking; I mean you’re trying to focus after all.  You exhale once and look at her, and for once, are able to cleanse the scowl off your face for a few minutes.

            “Jade, yesterday was probably the most fun I have ever had. I mean really, I thought I was going to explode or something. The fact that I got to spend it with you was a miracle by all standards…”  Your speech that starts out shaky-voiced and stumbling was starting to flow. For once, words don’t fail.

            “…Karkat—“

            “No, I’m not done. I need to say this, Jade.” You surprise yourself as you put your hands up toward her, if you don’t get it out now, you never will. You suck in a deep breath and try and continue, words eluding you for a moment until you can finally right your tongue. You look for the right words. There are only five, but you’ll think of more.

            “I’m crazy about you, Jade!” The truth is out. You practically shout it and you realize you’ve been sweating throughout all of this.  Idiot.

            And she’s smiling.  Honest to god, she’s smiling.

            “How am I doing so far?” You ask.

            “Pretty good,” she grins, “But I’m not letting you off the hook yet.  Keep going.”

            Go figure…

            “You drive me crazy, and you enrage me sometimes, but nobody has ever made me feel the way you do.   I’m sorry I’m an asshole. I’m sorry I’m petty. And I’m sorry I’m so damned pig-headed!  But the truth is that after all of that, I need you.  You’re the only person who’s ever taken all my shit and just… completely blown me away.  You deserve better than me and we both know it, but I’m mad about you anyway.”

            You’re standing just about a foot away from her face.  She’s standing on the stair above you so all you can do is just look into her eyes.  They’re just so green… and so alive.  You don’t really know how you ever got along without a sight like that.

            She looks… happy.  You can’t believe it.  You did something that made her happy.  Her lips are turned up just a little bit, buck teeth poking out.  She’s smiling at you, green eyes and buck teeth and freckles and all.  Jade Harley is smiling at you and you think you might faint.

            Before you can register it you’ve got two armfuls of Jade Harley.  First her arms snake around your throat and squeeze like boa constrictors, and the rest of her body follows, falling through the space between you to squeeze against your body as you half-wittedly caught her.  You stood there paralyzed with fear and joy and love and confusion with Jade there in your arms, warm and with her face pressing against your neck.  All you can think to do is what feels natural: Laying your head against hers and hold her tight.

            Like all good things in your life up to this point, it’s over too soon, and Jade rests herself on the ground again, pulling halfway out of your grasp.  She stands with her arms around your neck, looking at you while she plays with the hair behind your head.

            “I’m crazy about you too, fuckass.” The way she’s looking at you… you wish you could describe it.  Then you remember you’d seen it before.  In rose’s apartment, both of you lying on the floor, she looked at you like that.  If you had known it then... but it doesn’t matter now.

            “Does that mean I get a kiss?” You swear you might even be smiling, with your arms around Jade Harley’s back.

            “Didn’t I say I’m not letting you off the hook just yet?” She cocks her head and grins devilishly.  You’re about to protest but then you just shrug in her arms.

            “I guess I deserve that, you witch…”  She giggles briefly as she looks about your face. Something must have popped into her memory because now she’s looking at you reprovingly.

            “You know, Karkat, I had a voicemail on my answering machine when I got home last night.  From the parents of a certain student of mine named Bradley…”

            You’ve got a gut feeling where this is going and put on your best poker face, which in itself is not very convincing.

            “Oh. I mean… oh?”       

            “Yes. I did.  Apparently he’s taken to using the word ‘bitchin’’ around the house.  He said he learned it from a friend at school.  You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you Karkat?”

            “…Honestly, Harley, I don’t know _what_ you’ve been teaching these kids.” 

            She huffs at you and shrugs, tugging on a lock of your hair before slithering out of your loose hug.

            “Oh, go home and take a shower, you smell like you’ve been sitting out here in the sun all day.  I’ll be home around six.  Ok?”  She pokes a finger at your chest and smiles at you.  You stuff your hands in your pockets and nod once.

            She smiles once more, that smile you fell in love with, and kisses you on the cheek before walking away, all warmth and compassion.  You almost turn to watch her walk away, but it’d do you no good. Instead you start right back down in the other direction.  You’ve got to go home and shower, maybe find someplace for dinner.  But before that, you really should go and pay for that flower…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, the end of an era huh? Sorry it look so long. I guess life just took a busy turn and I hit a block, despite knowing roughly how I wanted it to end from the start. This was the first real fic I've ever written, and definitely the longest piece of writing I've come up with to date. I can't wait to start on something new, whatever, or whenever, that may be. My beta ready is a fanfiction user by the name of FatalBlow. Check out her work!


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